Face your Demons
by MichelleKelly
Summary: Officer Sewell replaces Anne on the bus to Silent Hill. Here, he must face his own demons and manifestations if he ever wants to escape.
1. Chapter 1

Sewell replaces Cunningham AU

Due to the fact that I am used to telling a story from the first person perspective ( I, me) I am using this as an exercise to expand my skills and will be using an omniscient viewpoint.

Chapter 1- The Bus Crash.

The sound of the alarm clock blared in his barely conscious ears. George rolled over and turned off the alarm clock before swinging his naked legs over the edge of the pillowtop mattress. He groaned and cast a sleepy glance at the still sleeping figure in his bed. He stood up with a grunt and meandered into the bathroom. The knob of the shower squealed as he turned on the hot water, once steam appeared the corrections officer stepped into the glass doored shower and stood under the scalding water.

_Shit it's going to be a long day, I hate prison transfers. _ He thought with a scowl. After washing himself and his hair he cut the water and stepped out before reaching for a clean towel.

"Coffee, I need coffee," he groaned as he wandered, dripping wet into his kitchen. Once the pot of coffee was brewing, George was back in the bathroom, running a towel through his wet hair. It was a routine that he did almost every day. He pulled a uniform from his closet and dressed while he listened to the coffee pot percolate. A black comb helped slick his hair back, it was getting long again and he wasn't sure if he needed to cut it or not. As soon as the coffee pot was done he poured the black coffee into a travel mug and put the lid on before pulling on his short leather gloves. Leather gloves meant no fingerprints, and it also meant less questions about the scars that they hid.

In the bedroom he stood and stared at the sleeping woman in his bed. He leaned over and kissed her cheek briefly before leaving the house and approaching his old pick up truck. The drive to Ryall was relaxing- it wasn't too far, but it was long enough that he could be alone with his thoughts while he drank his morning coffee, and smoked a cigarette. He showed his badge at the gate and pulled into the employee lot, where he parked and finished his coffee before he strode in for his shift, 10 minutes early.

Murphy had been one of Sewell's favorite prisoners, he wasn't like the rest, he was easy to manipulate into a pawn for his own enjoyment. Sewell was able to kill his superior and blame it on Murphy, who now faced a life sentence at a Maximum security prison, and Sewell had to take him there. _Karma's a fucking bitch, _He thought as he slapped his baton along the cell bars.

"Pendleton? Did I wake you? Come on, rise and shine cupcake, you know the drill," he cooed with a sadistic yet polite taunt. He watched Murphy grit his teeth "Guess Today is the big day, sorta sorry to see you go," he added with a smug smirk as he put the belly chain handcuffs on the other mans thick wrists. "Prisoner secure, open 302b transfer," he called. The wrought iron door swung open and his prisoner slowly emerged. They walked silently down the halls towards the gate where the other three prisoners waited. George stopped and waved his nightstick in front of Pendelton, very briefly cradling his scarred cheek. He counted his prisoners, checked his paperwork and finally shouted "Move on out!" Running a hand through his slick black hair he scowled as he approached the bus. He hated prison transfers more than anything.

With the inmates on the bus he settled into his seat in front of the grates with a cigarette. It would be almost a six hour ride there, and six hours back. He sighed with a plume of smoke expelling from his sharp nose. The ashes were flicked to the floor and soon he spit the cigarette to the floor and crushed it with his hard soled black boots. For the longest time he stared at his gloved hands, pondering the events that led to the leather gloves. Hours passed and the sky darkened into an angry storm. Rain pelted like bullets onto the steel bus. He hated the rain, the wet, the darkness of the sky. Looking through the grates he noted Murphy tossing in his sleep. How could that man sleep with the rain smattering the bus? Soon he startled awake in a panic. Sanchez leaned over.

"You have a good nap guero? So tell me something puta, is it true what I heard about you? Did you really do it?" he asked. George knew exactly what he was talking about, a pang of panic surged through him. Questions of that nature could make his entire world crumble.

"Shut your hole churro, you fucking pedophile," he screamed as he slammed his baton against the grate.

"Fuck you puta! you're the reason I'm getting transferred," he grunted back. Sweat formed on Sewell's brow and he slammed the baton against the grates.

"Don't make me come back there Sweetheart, you're not gonna like what I'm going to do to you," he hissed, the veins in his neck straining with anger. The bus swerved and Sewell fell his stomach drop before he flew forward, crashing into the drivers seat, pain bloomed in his chest before his back hit the roof and he lost his air, while the bus rolled down an embankment. He briefly registered more pain before everything went black.


	2. Interstate Gas Station

Chapter 2-

Pain was the first thing that registered in Sewell's mind. Pain, then the taste of iron, and finally the cold in the air. His vision was blurry but he saw pieces of the bus strewn about. _You have got to be fucking kidding me_ he thought. He sat up and looked around momentarily before slowly getting to his feet. His chest hurt, ribs felt like they were broken- and he'd had broken ribs before, he knew what they felt like. He grit his teeth and straightened up, reaching for his radio. Then a twig snapped and Sewell saw someone scurry away. He briefly ignored it and looked around, there was no one, Koons, Sanchez and the two other inmates were just...gone. Had they flown from the impact like he had? The officer approached the largest piece of the bus and stopped in his tracks, it was submerged in at least three feet of water. No, he wasn't- he couldn't search the water, there was no way he could...not after..Panic spread through his pained, aching chest. His fears had finally become an impediment. Refusing to dwell on them he spun around, and listened to the sounds of feet in the distance.

He tried to call in over the radio but received nothing but static. Slowly he ran after what he presumed was an inmate until he came to a gorge. On the other side was Murphy. George scowled with anger and drew his gun.

"Come on cupcake, get your ass back over here you know better than that," he cooed as he looked for a way up and over. He could climb the side of the gorge to the road, and then walk the 30 feet to Murphy it's not like he could go far.

"No. I'm not listening to you anymore, fuck you officer," he taunted back as he climbed the gorge.

"Dammit Murphy, don't be such a little bitch and get back here." Sewell grit his teeth and began to climb the gorge. It seemed like it took forever and by the time he reached the road Murphy was gone from sight. He cussed out loud and looked around.

"What the fuck is going on here? What happened to the road?" he asked aloud, even though nobody was around to listen. Fog rolled in over the crumbled road and in the distance he could see a gas station. Relief washed over him. He could call in the crash, and get help. However as he approached he noticed the abandoned dilapidated state of the building and sighed heavily. _You have got to be fucking kidding me, is this happening or am I still dreaming? _He thought with a pained groan. For a moment the man stood and contemplated his options...should he continue to chase after Pendleton or should he go back to the bus? He lit another cigarette and thought before trudging around the gas station. He ripped a hole in the fence by pulling the wire from the post and slid through. Through the heavy cloaked trees he could see another building. Cautiously he walked up to it, the stairs were rickety and old but he climbed them. As he approached the double doors at the top George heard a mechanical noise coming from inside. He swung open the door and drew his taser. He walked through a rickety wooden door and found the skytram, slowly moving with Murphy on board. _That song of a fucking bitch. Fuck this shit, I don't get paid enough to play these kinds of games. _He thought before he holstered his taser and limped back outside. Lighting flashed and thunder cracked loudly, Sewell's stomach dropped again. He detested the rain.

He managed to limp his way into a nearby abandoned house. There he sat on a dusty old chair and caught his breath. The corrections officer was wet, cold and uncomfortable. A dusty blanket nearby took the chill from his bones as he tried to communicate through the radio. All he caught was static. He grunted with frustration and stopped trying. Another cigarette calmed his nerves while he warmed up. Smoking hurt his lungs but he wasn't going to stop, it was one of the few vices he had that helped him think. He didn't know where he was, or why this area was abandoned, had an earthquake come through? Grinding the cigarette under his foot, he stood up and tossed the ratty blanket aside. He checked his gun, and his taser before he climbed back out the window and ventured towards the sleepy, foggy town. George Sewell had no idea what the town had in store for him, all he knew was that he needed to find assistance.


	3. Chapter 3- The Devil's pit

Chapter 3: The Devil's Pit

As he walked a long side the crumbled road, he found a tree that had fallen across, providing an unstable bridge. With his blackened heart pounding in his aching ears he shuffled across, with a sigh of relief when he touched stable ground. Fog rolled in thickly making the visibility low. Slowly, Sewell limped down the cluttered street until he came to a sign for the Devil's Pit. He ran a gloved hand through his disheveled tendrils and walked up the stairs to the building. Suddenly Murphy appeared walking towards him. George pulled out his taser, and blocked the inmates path.

"Stop right there cupcake, you're done. We're going back to the bus," he growled as he approached the convict. He slammed him into the wall of the building and holstered his taser before he patted down the inmate. In the pocked of Pendleton's pants Sewell found a simple wedding band. His thin lips curled back into a snarl before he slammed the other man's head against the wall. "Where the fuck did you get this?" he hissed.

"It was in these clothes," he confessed. Sewell pulled out his baton and struck the man on the side of the head. George leaned against the wall and slid down.

"Eve..." he muttered. Suddenly, the officer detached himself from the foggy world and descended into a piece of his own personal torment, one of the secrets that laid down within.

"You're not a man, George, the shit you do you should be ashamed of yourself," Eve screamed as they drove through a torrential downpour. Rain pelted the windshield of their SUV while they argued once again.

"Fuck off, you're such a bitch. I've given you everything and you haven't the slightest respect, you cow," he growled back. Suddenly the tires skid, and the car swerved. Eve lost control of the vehicle. They hurdled through a bridge barricade and went airbourne before the truck fell headlong into the river. Within moment George had his seatbelt off and the window broken. Desperately he tried to free his unconscious, bitter wife as water filled the cab. That was when a current pulled him from the truck and down the river. Terrified he tried to swim against it until he realized it would be too late. Aching in pain and soaked to the bone, he frantically tried to stay a float. Finally he latched onto a rock and crawled onto the sandy bank of the rushing river. He gasped for air before his face hit the sand and exhaustion consumed him.

He woke up to paramedics, and frantically told them about his wife. They assured him that she was pulled out of the river and in their care, but they were lying. She wasn't in their care, she was in the back of the coroners hearse on her way to the morgue. He suffered several fractured and broken ribs, pneumonia and a broken leg. Physically he would recover, but the argument and his last words to his wife would haunt him and tear at his soul, allowing darkness to seep in and blacken his once sweet heart and steal his soul away.

"It's been ten years and I still miss you," he whispered softly, uncharacteristically. His words threw off the convict that was in his presence, but absent from his world

"Officer Sewell?" the convict asked gently. George drew his gun and raised it calmly, sadistically. He had been pulled out of his world.

"You have three seconds to remove yourself from my presence," he hissed. Calmly Murphy ran into the fog, leaving the tormented, corrupt man to wallow in his own self loathing and pity.

There was a reason that George Sewell was evil and corrupt, and the ring that laid in his leather gloved palm was just a piece of it. It was a piece of something bigger than he would have to uncover and face in order to survive in the nightmarish hell he had now created. His horrific facets would be confronted and his sins would be exposed. He had no idea what awaited him in the cryptic town, but he would have to finish what he had started or he would lose everything. This was only the beginning of a long, twisted and exhausting journey. Murphy would prove to be the least of his worries as his demons took on a life of their own.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4- Hillside Police Station

Eventually George began to make his way into the abandoned delapitdated town. Lighting struck and began to fall. The man scowled and ran a hand through his slicked hair. Suddenly, he heard a high pitched pant coming from behind him. He turned around quickly, and stared into the fog, a womans sillohuette was approaching. But there was something wrong, very wrong with her. Knives and daggers stuck out of her back and there was a black bag over her face, her form was naked and smeared with blood.

"Ma'am. You need help?" he asked dumbly. Of course she needed help, he thought. She came closer and struck the officer, he tumbled back and drew his gun while the feminine creature panted and moaned. Sewell stepped back and shot three shots into the monster. She dropped to the ground and twitched as she died. George was panting harshly, amplifying the pain in his lungs. "What the fuck is going on here?" he asked aloud. Rain beat down on him again, soaking his now dirty uniform, blood streamed from his cheek, pooling in the hollows as it dripped down. In the distance he could hear more moaning. _These aren't women, these are monsters, like from story books _he thought as he gazed around frantically for shelter. Limping as he ran he slid into the wall of what he identified as the police station. Breathing a pained sigh of relief. He holstered his gun and leaned against the brick wall as he caught his breath. He cold heart pounded, and his dark, corrupted blood flowed faster in his veins.

That was when he spotted something lying on the floor, a piece of paper. He knelt down and picked it up. The contents angered him and he bunched up the paper and threw it as far as he could. "What is going on, who are you and why?" he screamed in a painful breath. The man dropped to his knees and lit a cigarette. "I know, I was a bad husband," he muttered. Tears, a foreign sensation welled in his eyes as he remembered his wife. She was the one that turned him into a monster, but she was also the only person that ever loved him. When she wasn't belittling and degrading George, she was sickly sweet and baked and fuck like a rabbit on ecstasy. There were more bad times than good times. She was bitter and rude more often than not, and over time she wore down the once decent man and turned him into the monster he had become. "Then again you did treat me like shit," he justified as he stood back up and wiped the dust and ash from his pants. He puffed on his cigarette a few more times, allowing the nicotine to hit his bloodstream in a delightful caress. He spit out the butt ans crushed it underfoot before he explored the rest of the cryptic station. A gaping hole in the center of the building made most of the place inaccessible, but inside a small room, among dusty boxes, the injured man found several clips of ammo and a first aid kit. He closed the door and removed his dirty uniform shirt to bandage the wound on his shoulder. The scratches were deep and blood beaded on his pale skin. Hastily he bandaged himself as best as he could before he shrugged the pale blue shirt on his shoulders and buttoned it expertly while wearing his leather gloves.

Slowly he emerged from the small room and squeezed through the opening in the wall. The rain had stopped and the creatures seems to be gone. Sewell wandered through the streets, his black heart pounding in his ears, his lungs painfully inhaling and exhaling while he searched for what ever it was he needed to find.

On the balcony of a small home he found a make shift bridge that ran across a piece of the broken road. Calmly George walked, heel to toe over the shaky structure into an apartment building. He didn't know what he was looking for anymore, he just knew that he needed to be here, and that there was something he needed to discover. Quietly he walked through the cluttered apartment before he made his way to the door. Curiously he decided to check every room before he left. As he slowly opened the door to apartment 4, he saw something that made his breath hitch. In the middle of the dusty, grim living room a beautiful young brunette was undressing. She pulled off a black chiffon dress, which revealed her black undergarments. George stood in the door frozen, aching with pain and desire. She removed the bra and revealed smooth, round breasts. The officer bit his lip perversely and swung open the door, but in that instant she was gone. Nothing remained but her discarded clothes. Anxiously Sewell checked the rooms looking for the mysterious woman but found nothing. He was frustrated, confused and beginning to feel the dreaded emotion, fear.

Had he really seen that? Or was it his imagination. The corrections officer chalked it up to his head injury and continued to explore the empty building before he headed to the front hallway. Discarded mail sat sadly on the ground, some discolored by time. They served as reminders of he past, of things forgotten.

George stopped and stared at the envelopes as memories flooded the apex of his mind. No matter how hard he tried to shut them out, he couldn't. He was manifesting his own private hell, and this was just the beginning.


	5. Chapter 5 The mailman

Chapter 5 – The Mailman

On the front stoop of the apartment building was a mailman, Sewell sighed with relief.

"Hey, do you have a phone?" he asked. The dark skinned man shook his head.

"'fraid not. Most of the phones are out. You might try the centennial building in the middle of town," he suggested in a slow drawl that relaxed George.

"Where's that exactly?" Sewell specified as he lit a cigarette. Inhaling still made his lungs ache but he needed the nicotine. It was his one biggest vice, he thought.

"The big building with the clock, you can't miss it," he answered, shifting his mailbag. Sewell nodded in appreciation.

"The name's George, and you are?" Sewell introduced politely as he held out his leather gloved hand. The man took it in a firm, friendly handshake.

"The names Howard, Now I got mail to deliver, good luck in your search, George," he excused as he turned and walked toward the alley next to the building. George thought the meeting a bit peculiar. The man was certainly calm. He didn't seem to see the town the way Sewell did. The officer looked up as he puffed smoke through his nose. Through the fog he could see the vague outline of the building Howard spoke about. With a grumble in his throat he trudged forth, cutting through the park. He was cautious, nervous that other creatures were present.

She lunged from behind a bush and tackled Sewell to the ground, he fumbled for his gun while she bit into his shoulder. The man strained, then fired three shots into the creatures head, ceasing it's existence. He laid there for a moment, catching his breath, before he stumbled to his feet. The bitch had taken out a chunk of skin from his shoulder, and there were deep scratches on his arm. Sewell holstered his gun and continued on, his breathing was heavy and shallow. He was losing blood fast. Finally through the fog he saw the door to the centennial building. George swung it open and checked the small walk in area. Seeing it was empty he entered and closed the door behind him. Sitting on a box, next to a wooden crate was a first aid kit, the man sighed with relief and removed his shirt once more.

He needed fluids he didn't know how much longer he could continue on. His shoulder burned like fire and the man wished he had some sort of pain reliever. Carefully he wrapped the gauze around his hairy chest and broad, sinew back. Once finished he put his shirt on with a pained groan and buttoned it. Carefully he tucked his shirt in and checked himself. That was when he noticed the door had a piece of paper taped to it. How could he have not seen that before. He stepped forward and pulled the paper closer. Sewell was stunned. It was his marriage license.

Like a tv screen memories played in his head. He remembered how sweet Eve used to be, then how cruel she became, how she belittled him, turned him into a monster that abused his power at work. She made him feel so inadequate that lording power and freedom over others was the only way he felt like a man. There were good times but they were few and far between. The memories he saw almost made him thankful that she was dead. Shaken, he ran a hand through his raven locks before he cried out.

"What do you want from me? I know I'm a monster!" he dropped to his knees and yelled loudly. He was frustrated, tired, injured and upset. The emotions that flooded through him couldn't be identified as any one, but as a whole, wild, extreme emotion that overpowered him and shook his soul.


	6. Chapter 6: The Centennial Building

Chapter 6: The centennial building and DJ Booth.

I'm beginning to hate this thing. I need some feedback.

He crept into the building and looked around, the second floor balcony had collapsed and lay in a sad heap in the middle of the first floor library. Sewell groaned and threw his cigarette to the ground in a huff and crushed it with his heel. He was getting tired of all this bullshit. After he climbed over the dusty balcony his eye caught a person sitting near the desk. Cautiously he limped over and called out. It didn't move, when he finally approached it he realized that it was a plastic blow up entertainment doll. Frustrated he punched the plastic doll and screamed. He was frustrated, in pain and confused. It was almost like the town itself was tormenting him. Dropping to his knees he caught his breath, and his eyes caught a small rectangle of plastic. It was an ID card. Thinking it might be useful Sewell put it in his pocket and slowly rose to his feet.

He lit a cigarette and slowly, cautiously wandered the quiet ground floor. Trees has grown through the windows, blocking some of the hallways. Boxes and desks were stacked in front of doors. With pain Sewell inhaled his smoke and exhaled with an ache, it hurt, but he couldn't stop. He needed it, needed the nicotine to calm down and grasp his surroundings. Finally he flicked his cigarette away and stomped it out. Calmly he looked at some of the books and admired the paintings. He needed to go slow to allow his body to recover. His injuries didn't just go away with a health pack, it just made it tolerable for him to move around for a short while. Anymore damage and the man might not make it to see the next day. He ran his leathered hand through his wild, unruly and now dirty hair. There was dried blood and dirt on his face, and on his uniform. He had gone through hell, and it was visible, but hell wasn't over. It had barely just begun.

A chuckle erupted from his throat when he found the elevator. He stepped in, slid in the id card and picked floor 18, the only floor available to him. His stomach dropped when the elevator lifted and his heart jumped briefly and he chuckled at his sensitivity. He was definitely rattled, and his walls were shaken but he was still strong, he reasoned. Soon the lift dinged and opened and he limped off with one hand on his gun. He heard talking and limped forward. Through a dusty glass window he saw a black man talking to Murphy. Quickly he swung open the door.

"On your knees Murphy, and I need to use your phone sir," he demanded. Just seeing the convict made the corrections officer furious. He drew his night stick and was ready to strike Murphy if he didn't cooperate.

"Hold on, we might have a way out of here," Murphy reasoned with his hands above his head.

"Sorry, calls come in but don't go out, just because you want to be heard doesn't mean someone's willing to listen," the dj said. Sewell picked up the phone. There was no tone at all, angrily he threw the phone down and turned back to Murphy.

"Get on your knees cupcake, we're leaving. You have been pissing me off all damn day," George grunted.

"Ricks has a boat, we can get out of here," Murphy rambled as he knelt down. Then there was a noise outside, a low screech. Sewell looked up to see some distorted female creatures break through the window. They grabbed him, their nail like claws pierced his flesh, and they dragged him off. He struggled but eventually passed out from the pain he was experiencing. They were taking him to a place where he would be forced to confront his mistakes, his sins, and what turned him into a monster, but it would only be a small piece of his puzzle. He would still have to experience the crimes he committed against the inmates in prison. However, before that he would have to face his other demons, the ones that cracked his soul before his other sins led him down this path of self destruction. The Screamers dragged him through the town to the High School and laid him in the gymnasium.

When George woke up he could barely move. There were blood pierce marks through his shoulders and thighs, dangerously close to his arteries. He needed a painkiller, water, and possibly food. He did not know how much more damage his body could take. On his knees he crawled to a first aid kit. He wrapped the gauze bandages around his thighs without even removing his pants. The other roll of gauze went around his shoulder. He used the Bactine and sprayed the wounds. Underneath the ice pack he found a bottle of pills. Hydrocodone with Acetominophen. Anxiously he took two and put the bottle in his pocket. He lit a smoke and waited for the edge of the pain to be taken away by the pills before he moved on.

George Sewell was slowly beginning to understand what happening to him. He knew he had to face his past and the hell he had created. He just didn't want to face it, because he knew how bad he was, he knew that he was going to suffer for everything he had done. He was a monster and there was no way around it. He blew smoke out of his nose and sighed. He grumbled unintelligibly and took another puff from his smoldering cancer. It would all come crashing down on him soon.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7: Are you my Mommy?

He walked the halls of the school quietly. It was dark, damp and dusty. He tried not to breath too deeply. As he looked into one classroom, a flashback reeled in his head.

He was a sinew athlete on the track team, he was popular and smooth. He would bully smaller kids, and was a contributing factor in a Sophmore's suicide one year. _I was a monster even then _he thought. He didn't understand what made him so evil. He thought- and had blamed it on his dead wife but now he couldn't. The problem went even deeper, and there was a reason he was the way he was, and Sewell needed to find it. He would have to dig even deeper. There was something that made him so evil, so corrupt and devious. George attempted to leave, but another Twisted Angel appeared from one of the rooms. With a racing heart, and sweat beading on his neck the officer drew his gun and shot the creature until it fell and twitched while it died. Taking a deep breath he finally pushed through the doors of the school and left.

George walked down the foggy street until one of the houses stuck out to him. It was identical to the house that he grew up in. Deep down he hoped that this held the answers he was seeking. Quietly, almost gingerly he walked up the stairs and lit a cigarette, holding it between two leather gloved fingers. For the longest time he just stared at the closed door. Fear was creeping into the back of his brain. Paralyzing his muscles. Pulling stale air and smoke into his aching lungs, he breathed deep with a soft rattle. Sewell knew he needed to confront what was behind the door, he just didn't want to. He field stripped his cigarette and flicked the dead butt away before his gloved hand caressed the dusty knob.

The door creaked as it opened to the bedroom. It was identical to the room he had when he was young. In the corner, suspended by it's twisted knife wings was another twisted monster, but that's not what Sewell saw, he saw his mother.

"I never wanted you, I've always hated you, you were demon spawn, the raven god. Death," she hissed towards him.

"Why have you hated me so? Why did you make me into a monster?" he asked back. The monster twitched and cackled. Her decaying flesh tore as she twisted in her confines.

"You were born a monster George, you are sin, the devil, You can not be redeemed," she growled in a low hiss. Anger built in Sewell's veins. Everything came flooding back. He remembered everything she did, every ounce of pain that she inflicted, and his anger grew. She didn't deserve the title of 'mother' she was a monster who had raised another.

Sewell didn't even think when he drew his gun and shot down the twisted contortion of decaying flesh. He had completely detached himself from everything.

As the monster decayed into darkness the room decayed as well, paint fell from the walls, and the room slowly began to dissolve into a red tainted hell, that irritated Sewells viscera. For a moment he stood confused by what was happening. Limping as he moved, he began to walk down the hallway that had appeared, behind the grates that enclosed him was fire, and the heat began to make George sweat. Soon, he came to the end of the hallway, where a single door stood, through it a stairwell. Holding onto the rail he made his way up the iron grate steps. Minutes ticked by, but no end was in sight. Finally George turned back, and twelve steps later he encountered the door. His head was in a fog, nothing made sense to him anymore. He walked through the door and was suddenly outside the house, back in a world of fog.

"What the fuck? Shit, I bet I have a concussion," he mumbled as he made his way towards the sidewalk. Stapled to a tree was a poster for a missing child, George didn't even give it a second glance. It wasn't his problem, he thought. But the poster had triggered a memory in his head, a memory and a simple voice, Murphy's voice.

"Why did you kill Frank?"

Aggravated he took the bottle of pain pills from his pocket and took another one. He lungs still ached with every breath, his right hip, knee and foot throbbed in pain and his head ache would not leave. He just wanted to go back, back to the way things were. He had to find a way to redeem himself, he needed to prove his mother wrong.

While he yearned for redemption, he wanted it for all the wrong reasons, and the town knew that, and wasn't about to make his redemption easy without first showing him more of his faults, sins and the real reason to want to be saved.


End file.
